


i feel numb in this kingdom

by ikuzonos



Category: Dangan Ronpa, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, NDRV3 Spoilers, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 23:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11241768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikuzonos/pseuds/ikuzonos
Summary: [Major Endgame NDRV3 Spoilers]Himiko phones Saihara over and over again, each time leaving a long and detailed message. He hasn't picked up once, but she's sure that if she just dials one more time, she'll get to hear his voice, not just the automated answering machine.Harukawa blocks her number without even answering the first call.





	i feel numb in this kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to idaate for beta reading!

The paper on the examining bed crinkles as she adjusts herself. 

It’s the day of her monthly doctor’s visit, one that she only goes to because of ‘contractual obligations’ or some other legal garbage. Every time she returns to the Team  _ Dangan Ronpa _ studios for whatever reason, she always gets sick. So far, she’s thrown up in the garbage can by the door three times.

Her stomach churns uncomfortably still, though she has nothing left inside it but acid. Her throat is tight and all she can taste is bile. Her fingers tighten against the faux leather and she bites down on her lip so hard that it splits. 

Twenty-five minutes have passed since the receptionist with the too shiny teeth directed her into this room. (“Right this way, Yumeno-san! Oh no, no need to fret, the doctor himself will be here soon. He just needs the time to gather himself!”)

Himiko just barely manages to stop herself retching again.

She rocks back and forth on the bed, the paper making noise with every movement. She doesn’t stop though, it’s too calming, and when everything causes her anxiety to ignite nowadays, she might as well continue with it.

Her free hand reaches up to her hair, and she drags her thumb across the back of one of her pigtails. Her hair’s a little bit longer now, and she’s decided to start styling it a little bit. The low hanging pigtails aren’t much, but it makes her feel like she’s accomplishing something.

(She wonders if she’ll end up looking like Tenko if she grows her hair out any longer. That thought both depresses and comforts her.)

Seconds before she decides to just go home, the door swings open and in walks the man who must be the doctor. He has a blinding smile plastered on his face. Himiko looks down at her lap and neatly folds her hands. If she cooperates then she can get out of here quickly.

“Achtung!” he shouts joyfully, “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Himiko doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about and merely nods to hide her confusion.

Luckily, the examination doesn’t take too long. He fixes up her newly split lip with some ointment and gives her instructions on how to treat it, instructions that fly in one ear and out the other. The rest of visit goes as normal, or at least, Himiko thinks it has. She’s too busy thinking in depth about her self-insert Harry Potter fanfiction which has just reached its third year.

She prepares to leap off of the table when the doctor suddenly says, “Tell me, Yumeno-san. Could you by any chance let Harukawa-san know that she needs to come by? We’ve reached out to her as much as we can, but it seems as if she’s gone off the radar.”

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” Himiko grumbles, pulling her coat over her shoulders, “I haven’t seen her in months.” She shoulders past the obnoxiously platinum blond doctor before he can ask her any more questions and darts out the door.

The doctor calls out after her, but Himiko is in the lobby before it matters. She glances around, a sick pit of hope in her stomach, wondering  _ maybe  _ Harukawa and Saihara are here.

They're not. Himiko doesn’t know why she expected anything different.

Behind her, Himiko hears the footsteps of the doctor and rushes under one of the chairs, curling up in a neat ball. From her position, she can see a young woman, the only other patient in the room.

The doctor arrives in the lobby second later. Himiko holds her breath when he walks close to her, his steel toed heel boots clicking ominously on the floor.

“Sonoda-san?” he asks the woman, “Tell me, have you seen a lovely red haired girl pass through here?”

Sonoda’s eyes briefly flicker towards the chair that Himiko is crouched under. 

_ Please,  _ Himiko silently begs. She doesn't have a clue if the dark haired girl can see the pleading in her eyes, but she's desperate to not be found out.

The girl pauses for a moment then says, “I haven’t. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve seen since I got here. Is it time for my appointment yet?”

For a second, the doctor sounds apologetic, “In this case, I will leave you here. Sorry to bother you with my pointless questions… I’ll make sure you can come in soon.” As he walks away, Himiko hears him mutter, “The little  _ fraulein _ must have doubled back in the hallway…”

She waits a second, then crawls out from under the chair. Himiko bows to Sonoda, “Thank you very much for protecting me.”

Sonoda shrugs, and looks back to her archery magazine, “It wasn’t a big deal. Go, before he finds you here, okay?”

Himiko nods feverently and charges out the door. Once she’s alone in the stale air of the carpeted hallway, she makes a beeline for the nearest bathroom.

It's mercifully empty. Himiko locks herself in the first stall she sees and slumps to the ground, her heart palpitating. She's done so much physical exercise today, more than she ever usually gets done, and it's wearing on her considerably.

As her heart makes its way down her throat again, Himiko unzips her backpack. A few weeks ago, she found it at a thrift shop, and decided that it would be helpful in keeping her organized. Today, it contains her 3DS, the charger for it, her disguise, and a thousand yen, entirely in coins.

 Himiko changes into her disguise - adorning a scarf, a toque, and zipping up her jacket - then leaves the bathroom with her head down. She makes it to a small coffee shop across the street about ten minutes before her bus arrives, and decides ‘screw it.’ She has the money, anyways. Actually, she has more money than she’ll ever be able to spend.

The kindly brown haired barista takes her order - a sweet steeped tea with extra lemon - then asks oh so innocently, “And could I get your name?”

Himiko panics. She glances briefly over her shoulder to see that a larger line has formed and gulps. Her hands begin to sweat under her fingerless gloves. She hadn’t planned for this.

She narrowly chokes out, “S-Sonoda,” and silently apologizes to the girl in the waiting room who she doubts she’ll ever meet again.

The barista’s eyes light up, “Sonoda? Like the winner of  _ Dangan Ronpa’s _ forty-ninth season? I’m such a huge fan of her!”

“It’s just my name,” Himiko snaps, feeling cranky all of a sudden.

“Sorry for badgering you,” the barista says apologetically, hand awkwardly reaching one of her four pigtails, “I’ll have your order ready soon, so could you please wait over by the other counter?”

Himiko nods silently and moves away from the piercing blue gaze. Once her tea is ready, she leaves without another word. After that, she gets on the bus and prepares to go home.

She sips her tea slowly, savouring the soft sweetness amidst the herbal aroma. It soothes her throat too, which is nice. The bus rolls along smoothly and mostly empty, so Himiko doesn’t have to worry too much about being recognized. Even with her disguise, she’s been approached a few times from fans who were desperate for an autograph from their ‘favourite moe survivor.’

(The thought makes Himiko throw up a little in her mouth.)

Resting her tea between her thighs, Himiko unzips her backpack and produces her 3DS. For the next little bit, she fights her way through the route, smiling as her beloved Pokemon take down even the strongest of foes.

In Pokemon Amie, she gently strokes her Umbreon. She’s maxed affection with her entire team, but it always makes her happy to see him bounce around. Himiko opens the Pokepuff menu and selects a fancy one, then feeds it to him, “Eat up, Saihara,” she murmurs as he crunches down on it.

Her mind flickers back to her friend. She hasn’t seen Saihara in a very long time, even longer than it’s been since she’s seen Harukawa.

Her fingers clench the stylus tight.

-

She doesn’t even experience the first betrayal herself. 

Himiko stands at her trial podium, trying to breathe. Every time her eyes close, she sees Amami’s body right in front of her, his skull caved in. His blood stains the carpet and rushes towards her, covering her feet— she stops. Her heart is racing and her head is spinning. But just as she catches her breath, all air leaves her body. 

“Kaede Akamatsu is the killer.” Saihara’s accusation is enough to send chills down her spine. Akamatsu, who has lead them all without hesitation. Akamatsu, who has spent the whole trial trying to keep everyone alive. Her gaze flickers to the blonde girl who laughs off the accusation with ease. Though suddenly, the smile on her face looks forced and uneasy. 

(Akamatsu swings like a pendulum, back and forth, slamming into the piano keys with inaccurate precision. If it weren't for the dissonance of the pianist struggling to breathe and the screams around her, the motion would be hypnotic.)

Shuuichi Saihara’s first betrayal doesn’t even involve her, but it hurts all the more, knowing that he damned the person he loved the most.

-

The bus rolls to a stop and Himiko leaps to her feet, grabbing her bag. The now empty paper cup of tea rolls off her lap and hits the ground with a dull thud. She stares at it for half a second, then picks it up, not wanting to litter. After depositing her ticket and fare, she leaves the bus and prepares to go home. Her family’s lonely, ivy wrapped apartment isn’t for another kilometre down the road.

Truly, Himiko hesitates to call the place home. Technically it is - it’s where all her possessions are, and it’s the roof that she sleeps under - but it hasn’t felt like a home in a long time. She doesn’t know why she bothers to return to this place every day, to parents who never speak to her, to a brother who refuses to look her in the eye. Even if they only wanted contact with her so that they could spend her riches, that would be enough. Instead, she has to slink through the rooms as they pretend that she doesn’t exist.

Himiko shuffles across the dirty green carpet in the lobby and ascends the stairs. She’s six flights up, and the elevator is out of order again. By the time she reaches the door that belongs to her family, Himiko's out of breath. She leans against the door for a moment, then unlocks it and silently goes inside.

It’s dead quiet, which is no surprise. Himiko bites on her canker sores and closes her eyes for a long moment. Once she opens her eyes again, she makes her way over to her tiny room at the back of the apartment. There's a faint trace of dust in the air.

Himiko shrugs off her backpack and throws herself into her bed. She bounces a little, the springs creaking below. She stares up at the blank spackle on her ceiling, looking for shapes among the bumps. The only remains of the  _ Dangan Ronpa  _ posters that used to be pasted there are the fragments of masking tape. The posters themselves are tucked behind her garbage can, facing the wall. One day, she’ll get rid of them, but she doesn’t have the energy now.

She lies there for hours and only moves when she hears her parents scuffling around outside. There’s no point in even trying to associate with them, not when they simply pretend that she isn’t there. No point in feeling even lonelier than she does as it is.

-

Maki Harukawa’s first and second betrayals are almost consecutive. 

Even if Toujou is lying about Harukawa watching the video before giving it to Hoshi, it doesn’t change the fact that the child caretaker (assassin?) still handed it to the tennis player without a second thought, and it got him killed.

Hoshi was her friend and Harukawa helped get him killed even if it was unintentional. Himiko grits her teeth, trying to resist the urge to grind them so that they disintegrate.

And nobody will blame Harukawa, even though she’s just as much as fault as Toujou is, Toujou who smacked Hoshi over the head and drowned him even though he fought back relentlessly.

(Toujou hits the floor in a heap, her bloodied body now a useless lump of flesh. A sick, sick feeling deep down in Himiko’s stomach hopes that she suffered.)

But it only takes a few seconds after that horrible sensation ends when Ouma exposes Harukawa as the liar she is - god how she can taste the irony budding in the air - revealing her true talent as the Super High School Level Assassin.

Two in one. Himiko doesn’t realize she’s bitten her lip until blood fills her mouth.

-

The lights in this public library are too bright, Himiko decides, as she sinks into one of the many cushy armchairs. She’s in disguise again, different than last week’s. A large grey poncho covers most of her, and a baseball cap shields her face. Not one person even bats an eye in her direction.

After ten minutes of drifting in and out of reality, Himiko decides to actually try reading the book she’s holding in her hands. She had grabbed one off of the shelves at random, not even bothering to look at what it was about. Her brain slowly processes the words, and when it does, her stomach does a flip and she tries not to retch all over her hands.

Arthropoda. The smiling grasshopper on the cover is trying to mock her, she’s sure of it. Himiko tries to keep reading but tears continue to prick in her eyes as she does so, and all she can see is Gonta Gokuhara being pierced in the stomach and spewing blood all over the ground.

It becomes too much. Himiko places the book on a nearby table, but it crashes to the ground soon after. She’s already gone though, having no more mental energy to bother putting the book back in the correct place according to whatever sorting system the library is using.

In the bathroom, Himiko locks herself in a stall and pulls out her phone, then freezes. Her fingers hover uselessly over the screen. She has exactly two contacts in her phone, Saihara and Harukawa respectively. She stares at their numbers blankly, then slips her phone back in her pocket and slumps to the floor. Even if she did call, she knows there’s no way in hell that either of them would pick up.

After a few minutes, she pulls her phone out again and orders a pizza. She needs to burn her money somehow.

-

The first night after she gets out of the hospital, Himiko does everything in her power to contact her friends. Team  _ Dangan Ronpa _ was more than willing to give her the phone numbers belonging to the fifty-third season’s contestants. In fact, they were actually willing to do a lot more than that, but she doesn’t know what on earth she’d do with Rantarou Amami’s social security number.

Himiko phones Saihara over and over again, each time leaving a long and detailed message. He hasn't picked up once, but she's sure that if she just dials one more time, she'll get to hear his voice, not just the automated answering machine.

Harukawa blocks her number without even answering the first call.

-

The dish soap tastes bitter and oily. Himiko ends up puking before it can get too far down her throat. It’s ten past four in the morning and it’s dark in her bathroom. The light bulbs have burnt out and there’s mold growing on some of the tiles.

She curls up on the cold floor, her grip loosening on the bottle of soap. Bubbles mix with the bile that rises up her throat.

This is it, this is the end of her, and that’s okay. Lying in soap and her own vomit, Himiko Yumeno will go out quietly, and it’s more than she deserves at this point. Not televised, not watched by hundreds of thousands of strangers, just her and the plastic bottle.

Someone - probably her  _ stupid _ older brother who won’t stay in the same room as her - bangs on the door. Himiko doesn’t even try to move, not having any strength left in her miserable body.

(The soap doesn’t kill her it’s not even enough to hospitalize her but she tastes suds in her mouth for weeks afterwards.)

-

“Couldn’t Yumeno-san be the culprit?”

It’s the second time, the second time _in a row_ that Himiko has been accused of murder. First because of the tank of piranhas, and now because of the room she picked for the ritual. She clutches the brim of her hat and looks at Saihara, trying not to shake. 

She silently begs him to say something, to not believe the heinous accusation - she wouldn’t kill Tenko or Angie she wouldn’t kill anyone why don’t they believe her - but all he does is stare at her with guarded suspicion.

Saihara’s second betrayal stings just as much as the first - perhaps even more because this time, it’s actually directed at her.

Tears burn in her eyes and it takes all her willpower to not lie on the floor and sob until she runs completely dry.

-

Silently, Himiko scrolls through news sites, only flinching a little bit when she spots the words  _ Dangan Ronpa  _ here and there. She’s gotten stronger in the past few days, and she’s proud of herself for making that progress.

She still remembers the first time she opened her laptop after getting home, relieved that she’d written down her password on a sticky note because none of her memories had returned yet, only to fly back in shock at the sight of her desktop background. Two characters from _Dangan Ronpa_ , a heavyset blond person and a man with ridiculously wild brown hair, faced the camera, the logo framing the screen like a hideous renaissance painting. 

(Those people were the same two on the posters she ripped off of her ceiling, the posters that she still hasn’t burned. They lean against her wall, subtly mocking her every time she glances in that direction.)

Her fingers tap mindlessly against her keyboard, not hard enough to actually press the keys. It’s raining today, so she figures that it’s best to stay at home. No point in being soaked as well as miserable.

After Himiko changes sites again, the muscles in her arm suddenly freeze in place. Her mouth feels slimy and gross. On the screen is a page long ‘breaking’ news story about how the three original  _ Dangan Ronpa _ movies are coming out on DVD. Apparently, there’s going to be some kind of fan event to celebrate it.

Himiko moves her laptop over her bed beside her and rocks back and forth for a few moments. Slowly, her heartbeat calms, but her head is still swimming. She can smell blood again, blood and rotting flesh. Her brain feels fuzzy and her hands shake.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Count to ten. Repeat. Himiko tries her hardest to follow these simple instructions, but ends up throwing up into her garbage can instead.

-

Supposedly, the security in the hospital is airtight, but Himiko finds her way into Harukawa’s room without any issues. The dark haired girl is sitting up in her bed, mindlessly braiding the ends of her freakishly long pigtails.

She doesn’t look up when Himiko enters, nor when she sits herself on the end of the bed, crossing her legs neatly, but she does greet the short girl with a soft hum.

According to the clock on the wall, it’s three o'nine in the morning. Funny, how things work in threes. Three weeks since the killing game ended, three hours of group therapy every day, three empty hospital floors that are coated in dust.

Three survivors of the final game of mutual killing. (Though, survivors is a strong word. Sometimes, Himiko wakes and believes that she didn’t actually make it out; that she’s floating back and forth in some sort of terrifying purgatory.)

Neither of them speak for the next few hours, letting the ticking of the clock be the only sound in the room aside from Himiko’s occasional sniffle. They don’t really need to talk anyways, and Himiko doesn’t want to.

At half past six, Harukawa stops fiddling with her hair and raises her head. Her eyes are tired and weary, purple circle underneath them. She asks quietly, “Is it strange that I don’t want to leave this place?"

“Mm?” Himiko responds, tilting her head slightly. Her own eyelids are drooping and she can barely stay awake at this point.

Harukawa awkwardly shifts and pulls her knees up to her chest, “I don’t know what I’ll do when they let us go. As far as I know, I don’t have anything… or any _ one _ to go back to. So maybe it’s… better if they don’t let us leave.”

Himiko turns her head and peers out the half open door. Through the gap, she can just barely see the room across the hall, the room belonging to the third ‘survivor.’ Harukawa follows her gaze and clenches her fist tight around the bed sheets.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Himiko says softly.

Harukawa curls her lip, “It feels like it. That’s enough of a reason to be upset over it.”

Himiko supposes that she can’t argue with that logic.

-

She doesn’t bother with the rerelease of the old movies, and fan conventions can go to waste. Instead, Himiko cracks open the DVD cases given to her by Team  _ Dangan Ronpa _ on the day of her discharge. She disregards the three discs dedicated to the season itself, and instead produces the ‘bonus’ disc.

Supposedly, it has the audition tapes on it. Himiko slides the disc into her laptop, not sure exactly what she’s feeling. Maybe she’ll find some kind of proof of existence within the grainy footage.

Himiko skips through most of them. She has no reason to watch Toujou’s or Amami’s or, god forbid,  _ Shinguuji’s, _ and merely doesn’t have any interest in a lot of them. After about five minutes of scrubbing the footage, she finally finds the one she wants.

Her own.

Back during her stay at the hospital, Himiko had turned down to offer to have her old memories artificially transmitted back. She saw no reason to bring them all back at once, considering that she must have traded them away before for a reason.

Now, she combs through what little remnants there are of the person she used to be. Her heart rises to her throat as the video plays out, showcasing what she came here to find.

A red haired girl is looking at the camera, standing up too straight, her hands folded too neatly. She’s been groomed to perfection, not a single hair out of place. Her uniform is perfectly buttoned and steamed; there’s not a wrinkle in sight.

Himiko only knows that she’s looking at herself because of the voice, and even that sounds a little bit distorted. She doesn’t see any traces of who she is now, not as she looks at bitten fingernails and uneven pigtails, then back to the girl who seems to have stepped right off of a movie set. This being that must have been her once doesn’t compare to her current self, to a person who is sadder than Sunday night television.

“...us your character pitch?” The voice comes from somewhere offscreen, but it probably - no, definitely - belongs to a member of Team  _ Dangan Ronpa. _ Himiko turns up her volume, realizing a moment too late how unprepared she is.

The Himiko that speaks, the one who looks bleached and stressed, makes her current counterpart feel sick. Her words are the only part of her that aren’t pristine, “I want to be a… a magician. No, no, no! No, wait, I want to be a mage. The kind that can do… do r-real magic. I want to be… be able to help… be able to help out with my magic.”

The supposed interviewer taps something on a wooden surface, then asks, “Why a ‘mage’ exactly? I would love to hear your reasoning.”

“W-Well, I thought that maybe… that maybe if I could do really good magic, I could make people like me. I could h-help so many… so many people on the show,” the girl on the screen stumbles. Then so quiet that Himiko’s amazed the microphone picked it up, she whispers, “I could make them  _ proud _ of me for once.”

There’s the familiar scratching sound of a pen scribbling on a sheet of thick paper. The interviewer hums, “I see. This is a very interesting pitch. We’ll make certain to review your wants later. Thank you for your time.”

The other Himiko bows her head politely, “T-Thank you very much!”

There’s a look in the eyes of her other self, one of intense longing. Himiko can hear the words behind them, heavily punctuated in the silence, ‘ _ Please give me something to live for.’ _

The footage of her audition cuts after that.

Himiko leans back against the wall, her head just brushing the extended portion of her windowsill. No thoughts find their way to her head, only ugly, grainy silence. She briefly considers downing a whole bottle of Ibuprofen like she often dreams of, but finds herself without the energy to move.

Her screen buzzes and changes again, showing another person. She looks a little bit more ragged than Himiko did, her uniform crooked and bits of her hair sticking up. Still, even without the green pinwheel bow, she’s instantly recognizable.

Tenko Chabashira’s pre  _ Dangan Ronpa _ self has the same smile and the same gentle eyes. They’re not as bright as Himiko remembers them, though, and she can’t tell if it’s the quality of the video or something else entirely.

“Chabashira, hm?” the interviewer inquires, “That’s quite the name you’ve got there, my dear.”

Tenko raises her arms protectively, “I didn’t, er, Tenko didn’t come all the way here to be disrespected, especially by the likes of you!”

The interviewer seems taken aback by her response, judging by his tone of voice, “I’m… sorry? I didn’t mean any disrespect to you. Ah… we’ve reviewed your application, and want to hear your character pitch. In the extra section, Arisato noticed that you wanted to be ‘sound in mind and body.’ Am I correct?”

Tenko nods, “Y-Yes! I- Tenko wants to be strong enough to defend herself against nasty m… people. Does that make sense?”

The interviewer writes something down quickly, then says, “I understand… I think I have an idea of what you want. The team will review this audition, and we’ll be in touch if we think you’re a good fit for the show.”

Himiko pushes her laptop screen down as Tenko opens her mouth again. She doesn’t want to watch or listen anymore. Tears threaten at the verge of her eyes and she bites down on her lip as they run down her face. This isn’t the girl that she remembers being in love with, even if she contains faint hints of that. This Tenko seems damaged and on edge.

After a moment, she reaches for her 3DS, and finally finishes taking down one of the gym leaders with her Delphox, the strongest member of her team. 

Now  _ there _ is a Tenko that she loves dearly.

-

Angie, her level seventy-four Florges, defeats the wild Hariyama in one hit. Himiko smiles weakly, proud of her strong pokemon, but then slumps over. She’s bored. She hasn’t left her room in a week.

She blindly reaches for the massive bowl of now stale popcorn that she made the last time she ventured out - and has been living off of for the past seven days - grabs a fistfull and shoves it in her mouth. Her mouth is dry and her teeth are full of kernels. Himiko takes a swig of the flat soda that she keeps hidden under her bed.

It doesn’t really help, but she doesn’t want to risk being in the same room as the family that doesn’t acknowledge her presence. She doesn’t know why she even calls them her family - they don’t care about her, and she’s lost all interest in them. Why should she care? Himiko doesn’t know who they _are._  

Her fingers tap rapidly on her quilt. She’s getting bored, and she doesn’t want to be bored. Being bored is the worst thing that she can be right now, just under the mess that is her mental health (or lack thereof.)

She shoots upwards, trying to ignore the slight pain that comes with it, thanks to all the blood rushing to her head, then leaps off her bed, running for her closet. 

There’s some nice clothes in the back, bought for her by Team  _ Dangan Ronpa _ so that she had something good to wear during the interviews. Himiko deliberates for a long couple minutes, then picks a modest black dress that would look better on her if she had any meat on her bones. (She can count her ribs in the mirror.)

After her clothes is her hair, which she brushes fiercely enough to make her scalp hurt. Then, there’s the slight, tight discomfort of hair scraped into a ponytail lifting the skin of her forehead. It’s pleasure pain, though, because  _ god _ she hasn’t looked this nice in a long time, even if her hair is a little bit greasy. Nothing that a spritz of dry shampoo won’t fix.

She’s drop dead gorgeous in this getup - actually dropping dead is too much to ask for - and Himiko smiles at her reflection in the mirror. She hasn’t feel truly good about herself in a long time.

Himiko snatches the purse provided to her by Team  _ Dangan Ronpa, _ quickly checking to make sure that she has the ID they gave her as well - god they gave her so many things. It doesn’t feel right to possess them, considering how much she hates all of them - then marches right out the door of her room, then the apartment itself.

Her parents don’t look up at her once.

-

“Will you kill me, Harukawa?”

The assassin’s room is dark and dismal, not completely unlike the owner’s personality. Himiko sits on the floor, playing with the frayed ends of her cape, while Harukawa herself lies on her bed, running her fingers along the handle of one of her knives. It’s the second time today that Himiko has asked her this.

Her answer is quick and concise, “No.”

“Why not?” Himiko asks, tearing some of the strings off. She’ll need a new cape at this rate, but it doesn’t really matter. The cape doesn’t affect her magic in any way. Not that she’s been able to perform any lately. Ever since Gokuhara’s execution, everyone has been sombre, or straight up suicidal.

Harukawa replies, “Because it’ll give me a tension headache. Stop talking or get out of my damn room.”

Himiko rubs her temples. Part of her wonders for a second why Harukawa even allowed her in. The dark haired girl is just as rough around the edges as she was when everyone first arrived. Momota and Saihara say that she’s softening, but they’re fools. Everyone in the whole place is a fool.

Before, thinking of Tenko would put a tiny smile on Himiko’s face, give her a feeling of resilience. Nowadays, thinking of Tenko doesn’t help Himiko feel stronger, in fact, it makes her want to join the aikidoka more than ever. Deep down, she knows that that isn’t what Tenko would want, but Himiko is so damn tired of _being_ _alive._

Maki Harukawa’s third betrayal doesn’t sting like the first two did. No, by this point, Himiko can hardly feel a thing. Her eyelids are heavy and her head is sore, and absolutely nothing matters at all.

-

The club that she picks out from Google Maps is on the other side of town. There’s almost nobody on the subway this late at night, and not a single person recognizes her. It brings Himiko great relief, considering that she didn’t think to cover her face.

Her heartbeat is hammering in her chest. Himiko can’t tell if it’s from excitement or nerves, but it’s too late for her to turn back now. She is going to have a good night, the first one she’ll have had in eight months, the first one since she and two others narrowly escaped the end of _Dangan Ronpa_ with their lives.  

(At the time, they had smiled up at the sky and promised that they would survive just to spite the people who put them there, smiled despite the two consecutive and brutal deaths of their friends, but it had all been a mirage to placate them before the reality of the situation hit them all at once like a bus (like a chunk of falling rubble, like a hydraulic press.))

The air outside is crisp. Himiko shivers a mite as she gets off of the train, following the directions on her phone to the club. Before she can even reach it, she can feel the beat of the music as the ground rumbles beneath her feet.

(Maybe this was a bad idea maybe she should just go home and pretend this stupid idea never came to her.)

The bouncer at the door is a tall, terrifying man with a storm of black hair. A hawk is perched on his shoulder, giving her an identical piercing glare as his owner.

“ID?” he grunts, looking her up and down like she’s a convict.

Himiko fumbles in her purse for it, then produces the shiny, laminated card. As soon as he sees the ‘Former  _ Dangan Ronpa  _ Contestant’ emblem on it, he unhooks the rope barring her entry without even looking at her age. (She guesses that’s a good thing, considering how young she is.)

Inside, she’s almost instantly assimilated into the giant pit of dancing people. The music is even louder now that she’s inside, and she swears that her brain is vibrating inside her skull. She gets shoved a slight bit, and at that point, Himiko stops giving a damn. She dances just as hard as the rest of the people around her, screaming like she’s lost her mind.

Who cares if people know it’s her? Who cares if she ends up on the front page of every tabloid magazine in the prefecture come morning? She doesn’t, not one bit, and that’s what matters at this point. For once, she’s going to be selfish and actually  _ enjoy _ herself.

The giant gleaming mirror ball hanging from the ceiling begins to give her a bit of a headache, so she shuffles away from the main dance floor and slumps down in a barstool next to a blonde girl. The bartender stops polishing a glass and looks over at her.

“Nihonshu, please,” Himiko croaks out, kind of loopy. She’s had the rice wine before, having snuck glasses of it during her parent’s dinner parties.

The bartender eyes her suspiciously for a second, then pushes up his bright red glasses and takes a bottle off of the shelf. He pours her a small glass, she she thanks him before completely downing it. It burns like fire all the way down, but feels  _ good _ at the same time.

Her senses feel heightened. This is a buzz she hasn’t known in a long time.

“Heh!” the girl beside her says, “Thirsty, I take it? Can’t blame you, you were  _ killing _ it on the dance floor earlier. Wish I could dance like that without being drunk off my ass.”

Himiko looks at the girl who can’t be any older than herself. Her hair is tied in pigtails so tight that they must cut off circulation. This is a girl who knows how to hurt. Red lipstick stains her half empty glass.

“Chiyoko Souma. It’s a pleasure!” she says extending a hand. Himiko shakes it uneasily, not really sure what to expect from her. She’s got that too bright smile that Himiko sees on every Team  _ Dangan Ronpa _ representative, on every washed up celebrity that occasionally appears on late night television.

Himiko mumbles, “Y-Yeah… nice to meet you as well.”

Souma tilts her head curiously, then leans in with a whisper, “So, I’ll keep this on the down low for you if you’d like… but you’re totally Himiko Yumeno, right?”

Himiko’s resolve about ‘not caring’ crumbles in an instant, “N-No. I’m- I’m a cosplayer, actually. My… My name is Maki Sonoda.” At the end of her sentence, her voice rises like she’s asking a question. She silently curses herself, knowing that the name is going to damn her.

Luckily, Souma doesn’t notice, “Oh, that’s so cool!” Himiko smiles weakly, but feels a rush to the brain. Perhaps this is the art of being a liar, the concept that Ouma built his life around, dug himself so deep into that he couldn’t get back out. Himiko isn’t quite sure if she likes it yet.

“I tried to do a closet cosplay of Iruma, but it didn’t work out so well,” Souma says, gesturing to her pink sailor uniform. Himiko’s stomach lurches.

“I was so sad when she died,” Souma continues, “Ever since the season started, she was my absolute favourite, and then she got killed! She seemed so important, so I thought that they might let her live.”

Himiko drums mindlessly on the counter, “Mmm… I- I was really upset too.” Souma offers her a comforting smile, but it feels hollow to Himiko, because the girl didn’t see Iruma - or anyone else - die right up close and personal.

Souma says, “I take it that your best girl was Yumeno? You must be so happy, honestly. It’s been ages since the moe character lived. Congrats!”

She could stop the conversation there. She could nod along and take another sip of the nihonshu. Instead, Himiko says, “Actually, m-my favourite was T… Chabashira.”

Souma nods sadly, “I loved her too. She had such a good spirit! I bawled like a baby when she died… but I guess they had to subvert the ‘athletic girl usually wins’ thing.”

“I… I was sobbing too,” Himiko says. She doesn’t know why she keeps talking and casts a suspicious glance to the alcohol, “I would… have cosplayed her, but, er… I’m too short.”

Souma replies, “Hey, I’m too tall for Iruma! You can do anything you want… but I totally get if you want to stick to your comfort zone.”

Himiko quickly chugs back the rest of her rice wine.

Suddenly, Souma says, “Hey, we should dance! C’mon, Sonoda-kun, it’ll be fun!”

“How old are you?” Himiko asks in immediate response.

Souma grins, “Seventeen. But if anyone asks, I’m twenty. Let’s goooo!”

_ The same as me, _ Himiko thinks as the blonde tugs her out of her seat, practically dragging her to the dance floor. 

Somehow, Himiko manages to have fun, or at least, she thinks she does. Somewhere between the bright, flashing lights, the hastily gulped alcohol, and the sloppy kisses, she blacks out.

-

Himiko shoots awake to a room she doesn’t recognize, a bed that’s not her own, wearing pajamas she’s never seen before.

She fumbles desperately and leans against the backboard of the bed, trying to figure out where she is. Her head hurts like hell, and every so often, her vision swims. Every single part of her body is sore.

Her phone is plugged into the wall and her purse lies limply beside it. The dress she was wearing is crumpled.

Himiko moans, “What… happened to me?”

As if to answer her question, the door to the room opens, and Souma steps out, also clad in pajamas, her hair messy.

“Morning,” she says, tapping on her phone with her thumb, “You slept really late, Yumeno-kun.”

Himiko’s heart stops for a second, “That’s-That’s not my name-”

Souma chuckles and approaches her, turning around her phone. Loaded is an article with the headline: ‘Local  _ Dangan Ronpa _ winner Himiko Yumeno seen having the time of her life.’

“I, er, no, that’s a mistake,” Himiko insists, her heart thumping violently.

Souma laughs, “It’s okay! I told you back at the club, I’ll keep your little secret. Stay here, I’ll make you breakfast!”

As soon as the door closes, Himiko throws the duvet off and leaps off the bed, staggering as she does so. She snatches her personal effects, deciding to leave the dress behind, and looks for an escape route.

It's closed, but Souma has a big window next to a very tall tree. Himiko struggles with the lock for a moment, but eventually manages to push the window open. She sticks one leg out, then the other, sitting on the very edge of the windowsill. The tree is so close. If she can grab the nearest branch, she can climb down to the ground. 

Himiko takes a deep breath, then flings herself at the tree, successfully clinging onto a branch with her sweaty hands. She starts moving towards the trunk, prepared for her descent, when she hears a slight, terrifying crack.

The branch breaks and Himiko plummets to the ground.

As soon as she makes impact, there's a deafening snapping sound. Himiko clutches her ankle, trying not to scream at the top of her lungs.

Somewhere between the fall and hitting the ground, Himiko must have thrown up because there's vomit on her hands and knees.

Standing up again is even more difficult that she would have thought. She leans against the tree, mentally and physically sick. It takes a moment, but she manages to get away from the tree. If she drags her leg, she can walk. Just barely.

There's almost no signal where she is, but Himiko eventually manages to get a vague idea of the direction she needs to go in. It's a long walk.

Her head screaming at her as she does so, Himiko sets herself on the way back.

They say that there’s no place like home, but Himiko doesn’t know where that is anymore. As she drags her leg along the dusty highway, she feels as if she’s getting farther and farther away from that place, even though she’s heading in the direction of her family’s apartment.

When she finally,  _ finally  _ gets back, she stumbles into the thankfully free bathroom, all while tears pour from her eyes. Himiko tears off the unfamiliar pyjamas as best as she can, then teeters into the show and turns it on, sitting on the floor and hugging her knees to her chest.

The skin on her ankle blisters under the hot water, but Himiko doesn't have the energy to move herself. Instead, she sits under the stream and sobs as the shower washes away the not yet dry fluids caked to the inside of her legs.

-

Finally, the day comes where the three winners are allowed to leave the hospital. At half past eight in the morning, they're roused from sleep and brought to the atrium.

On the way, two of them are offered a special DVD release package, containing a movie version of the game from Kiibo's perspective, and a bonus video of the audition tapes. Only Himiko takes it.

For a while, they stand silently together, never looking up from the ugly green tiles except to glass at the queue of taxis outside, until Himiko finally speaks.

“Harukawa… Call me when you get home, okay?” Her words are tentative. 

The faux assassin rubs her thumb against her long, loose hair, then finally nods, “Of course. You do the same when you leave. Will you promise me that?”

Himiko says, “Y-Yes, I promise you.”

Harukawa waves awkwardly, taking this as her cue to go, then spins around on her heels and walks out the automatic sliding doors. And Himiko doesn’t know it then, but this is Maki Harukawa’s final betrayal.

This is the last time that they will ever meet.

-

Team  _ Dangan Ronpa _ fixes her ankle within a week. Fixing is a strong word, considering that she'll probably limp for the rest of her life, but at least now she has a crutch.

At their hospital, their smelly, ugly hospital that tastes like death, she asks them to help her get a new apartment as well. She doesn't want to live with her ‘family’ anymore, if she can even call them that.

The place they pick for her is in a quiet, outskirts of town neighbourhood. It's only one room, and the only furniture is a futon, a couch, a television, and some very basic kitchen utilities, but it feels like more home upon her first step inside than the apartment she was living in before ever did.

On her first night, Himiko doesn't have a nightmare about one of her classmates dying. (Instead, she dreams about her old life, the one that memories of are slowly trickling back, but Himiko decides to count this as a win.)

She wakes up, not quite refreshed, but not overly exhausted either. It's chilling and comforting in the same way, the same way that she feels less alone in this place, despite nobody else being around.

Slowly, she gets out of bed, reaching for the crutch that she leaned up against the wall right next to it, then stumbles into the bathroom to take her painkillers and other morning medications. With that under way, she stops and thinks. She can do anything that she wants. Maybe this is the independence that she needed.

So while eating instant noodles and a cupcake for breakfast, Himiko sends out Momota, the most beautiful Gastrodon in the world, to fight against the Elite Four. They've gotten stronger since the last time she beat them, but she likes the challenge.

She's halfway through Zumi’s team, only Harukawa the Charizard fainted, when there's a faint knock on her door.

Himiko slowly rises, limping her way over, as the music gets more and more intense in the background. 

She doesn't know who she was expecting to be at her door, but it certainly wasn't Tsumugi Shirogane holding a plastic measuring cup. They stare at each other for a very long time, Himiko’s mouth slightly open and Shirogane’s face contorted in confusion. The final mastermind of  _ Dangan Ronpa _ is five inches away from her, but seems subdued.

“Hi,” Himiko says after a minute, absently fiddling with a loose string on her sweater, “I didn’t know that you lived here.”

“I didn’t know that you were here either,” Shirogane replies, biting her lip and looking at her feet, “Sorry for never calling you… I assumed that you didn’t want to speak to me.”

Himiko mumbles, “I… just moved in yesterday.”

Shirogane drags her foot on the floor, “Ah, well… Sorry for bothering you. I hope you have a good morning.”

Before she can walk away, Himiko says, “W-Wait. Do you want to come in?”

“Do you have any flour?” Shirogane responds, clutching her measuring cup tightly.

“Probably not,” Himiko says, shuffling away from the entry, “Want to come inside anyways?”

Shirogane hesitates as if silently deliberating, then nods and comes inside. Himiko closes the door while the blue haired girl gently moves towards the sofa, but doesn’t sit down on it. Himiko limps over to the one cupboard she has and peers inside. Sure enough, no flour.

She makes her way back over and sits on the couch, closing her 3DS. Shirogane is still hovering next to it, looking uneasy. Himiko says, “You can sit. You’re allowed.”

“Sorry,” Shirogane whispers. She complies though, sinking onto the soft fabric, her hands on her lap, neatly surrounding her measuring cup. There’s a long pause, then Shirogane asks, “What… happened to your leg?”

Himiko runs a hand through her hair, “Fell out of a tree. It’s a really long story.”

Shirogane nods slightly, “A-Ah. I see.”

Himiko chews on her lip. She wishes she knew what to say, but she also knows that it comes from the fact that she has a murderer in her apartment. There’s a flash in the back of her head of a memory that does not belong to her, of a hand holding a shot put and bringing it down on the head of a green haired boy.

At the same time, Shirogane is not the manipulative, arrogant girl that she was revealed to be during the final trial. She seems to have returned to the docile, shy person that she presented throughout the killing game. This time though, it seems more real. It strikes Himiko that she was probably brainwashed like the rest of them.

“Want to watch some TV?” Himiko asks. When Shirogane nods, she reaches for the remote and clicks it on. She scrolls through the channels, looking for something slightly compelling to watch, when Shirogane suddenly grabs her wrist.

“Wait!” She yells, then quickly retracts her hand as if the action burned her skin, “G-Go back one, will you?”

Himiko complies, and in that instant, understands the sudden and intense reaction. On the screen, standing at a podium and seemingly giving a speech is Maki Harukawa.

Her mouth dries up and Shirogane stiffens beside her. Her hair has been chopped short and she looks ever so subtly distraught, but there’s no mistaking her. Himiko fumbles to turn up the volume so that they can hear Harukawa speak.

“...returned to the country, I had no plans to enter the public eye. I just wanted to live out the rest of my life in peace, but I suppose the universe had other plans. Though I… am truly glad to return here. I came to the realization during my trip that  _ Dangan Ronpa _ wasn’t such a bad thing after all.”

Himiko’s jaw drops. Shirogane trembles and whispers, “What  _ happened _ to you?”

Someone in the audience raises their hand. Harukawa points at them, “Yes?”

The person asks, “Why were you gone for so long? I speak as an active member of the community, and for everyone watching at home who must have been worried out of their minds.”

Harukawa hesitates and reaches down to brush the harness of the service dog that Himiko hadn’t noticed prior. Finally, she says, “I was searching… for something.” 

“Did you find it?” pipes up another member of the crowd.

Harukawa looks at the podium, “Not yet.”

It cuts to a commercial. Himiko and Shirogane stare at the screen for a long few minutes before the red haired girl picks up the screen and turns it off. There’s another long, long silence. 

“Want to watch me play pokemon?” Himiko asks, not sure what else to say at this point.

Shirogane nods, looking shaken to her core, “Y-Yes. I’d like that.”

Himiko reaches for her 3DS and flips it open. Shirogane moves closer on the couch so that she can peer over her shoulder, just in time to see Hoshi, Himiko’s hideously powerful Tyrantrum, take down the opposing Gyarados with a fierce Stone Edge.

The former mastermind only flinches once.

-

Kiibo launches up into the sky and Saihara pulls her into a safe spot amidst all the falling rubble. From a short distance, she can still see Shirogane waving, a sad expression worming its way onto her face. 

For one horrid moment, Himiko almost feels sorry for her.

All of a sudden, as a massive chunk of debris makes its way towards the blue haired ringleader, Saihara leaps to his feet from where they’re sheltered and charges right towards her. Himiko shrieks and Harukawa throws out her arm, but that doesn’t perturb him. Just seconds before the rock hits the ground, he shoves Shirogane out of the way, leaving him under the shadow.

Shuuichi Saihara’s final betrayal is as loud as the silence after a gunshot, and his bloody remains make him and the fallen supreme leader identical in death.

-

The next day, clothed in heavy disguise - because apparently Shirogane’s sewing skills were real, or she just happens to own enough outfits to clothe an army - Himiko and Shirogane leave the apartment building in search of something.

Neither of them say what that ‘something’ is, but in Himiko’s mind, it’s Harukawa. Maybe Shirogane is thinking the same, maybe she’s not, but it doesn’t really matter, because they don’t find anything except a really nice ice-cream stand.

Then a couple days after, they take the train to the Team  _ Dangan Ronpa _ publicity headquarters. There’s protestors there, half of them begging for a series reboot, the other vying desperately to stop the show from ever airing again.

The two look back and forth, then exchange uneasy glances. Maybe this isn’t the day to invade the place, demanding information on Harukawa. And so, after visiting a quaint bookstore - and overloading on cookbooks, because god knows Himiko needs to learn - they head back home.

In between, they keep up with all of Harukawa’s interviews, watching for a glimpse of the person that they remember. Her dialogue during it all is stilted and uneasy, as if she’s reading off of a script that she doesn’t like.

Knowing Team  _ Dangan Ronpa, _ that guess is probably not too far off.

With time though, the interviews become less and less frequent, going from twice a day to once a month, and that’s if they’re lucky. Each time she appears on the battered television, Harukawa looks worse and worse, until she stops appearing all together.

Supposedly, according to the numerous fan sites that clog up the internet, she’s left the country again. Himiko hopes that that is the truth, that Harukawa is far, far away from  _ Dangan Ronpa _ once more, and that the team hasn’t decided to do away with her, or something equally as horrible.

Even after their futile search ends, Shirogane sticks around. There’s several nights - some in a row - where the blue haired girl falls asleep on Himiko’s couch. And Himiko, much as she disliked Shirogane during the first few months after the killing game ended, comes to appreciate her in a way she never would have expected.

Hope and despair as ultimatums of reality aren’t an actual thing, no matter what the decades old movies that occasionally play late at night say, and nobody knows that better than the final, rugged survivors do.

-

Himiko turns on Pokemon Sun for the first time, already having lots of ideas in mind for her new team. Beside her, Shirogane begins to play the nighttime partner of it.

The two play quietly for some time, until they each have their starter. Himiko flips her screen around first to show off her Popplio, nicknamed ‘Shirogane.’

The blue haired girl smiles nervously as turns her own screen around to reveal Yumeno the Rowlett. The tiny owl’s namesake beams.

Perhaps naming the colourful monsters after their fallen friends is in poor taste, but neither of them have any better ideas in regards to coping mechanisms.

They both still have nightmares, both have nights where they awaken dripping with sweat, but they’re not alone anymore. And as Himiko decides, that’s what makes waking up in the morning something that she no longer fears.

**Author's Note:**

> The club Himiko visits is a real place in Tokyo called Womb. 
> 
> This might be the last thing I post for a while, unless I can manage to finish the next chapter of Runner's High soon. I'm going away from June 30th to July 16th, and the day after that is my birthday, so I won't be around at all, most likely.
> 
> Please leave comments/kudos if you enjoyed!


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